Alex Armstrong: Awakening (28 page)

“Wait!” Alex said.

“What?”

Alex looked at the wreckage and the twinkling mess scattered on the ground. He opened his palm. Hundreds of diamonds began trembling, so many shifting points of refraction that it looked like the surface of the ocean in the setting sun. He flexed his fingers and the diamonds jumped into the air and condensed into a glittering baseball-sized sphere that now hovered above his hand.

“Good idea,” Lachlan said. He collected his own ball of diamonds. “Brady, you should—”

“I’ll be fine.” He peered one more time around the metal edge and then ran across the open space and past the adjacent container. He slid to a stop at the far side of the container two rows over. He motioned for Lachlan and Alex to follow and they did.

Alex could tell Lachlan was seething, so he stayed back and kept watch at the opposite end.

“Brady!” Lachlan said, straining to keep his voice at a whisper. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Calm down.”

“Calm down? We’re a
team
, remember? And this is
my
mis—”

“I have a plan.”

Lachlan took a deep breath. His diamonds hovered just above his left shoulder. “Well, does it involve us?”

“Of course,” Brady said.

When Alex glanced over, he saw Brady tracing something on his hand like a quarterback drawing up a play in the huddle. Lachlan’s face was still red, but he nodded along. The two of them finally broke apart, Brady running off on his own, Lachlan hustling back to join Alex. “He’s going wide, we’re going straight ahead. Let’s go.”

They kept to the shadows as best they could, looking every which way as they crept along the metal walls, checking the spaces between the containers like a couple of wary paintball players entering enemy territory.

Alex suddenly stopped and grabbed Lachlan’s shoulder and motioned for him to keep quiet. They backtracked a few steps and took cover behind a pale grey container.

“What is it?” Lachlan whispered.

“There’s a guy in the next aisle.”

“You can feel him?”

Alex nodded. “He’s right in the middle. Not moving.”

Lachlan swallowed and looked at the metal as if he might see through it. He shook his head. “I can’t feel him. What are you thinking?”

Alex flattened his hand and Lachlan’s diamonds floated over and joined his own. The sphere was now the size of a softball. He looked at Lachlan. “Get ready to run.” Alex waited for Lachlan to crouch into a starting position and then pitched the diamonds up and over the container as though he were tossing a hand grenade. The ball disappeared from view and Alex clapped his hands together and the whole thing exploded, diamond shrapnel tearing in every direction, pinging against the metal like hail on the roof of a car.

There was a groan and then something clattered on the ground.

“Now!”

Lachlan ran around the corner. The man was on all fours and spitting blood. Lachlan charged and kneed him in the side of the head and the man crumpled and lay sprawled on his stomach. He kicked him one more time—just to be sure—and then flipped him over so he could see his mask. It was the clown. He lay there sparkling, diamonds embedded up and down his clothing, the ones in the bare skin of his arms and hands ruby-like as the blood welled around them.

Alex approached as Lachlan was casting the rifle into the ocean. It went spinning sideways out of sight. “Is he dead?”

“No,” Lachlan said, “just out cold. He’ll be like this for a while.”

“
Oof
!”

The muffled yell came from somewhere deeper in the maze. Lachlan and Alex looked at each other, eyes wide. “Brady!”

They found him standing triumphantly over an unmoving body, rifle in hand. He smiled at them as they approached. “Life imitates art,” Brady said. Blood had worked its way through the fabric of the mask and was now pooling from the corner of the red frown.

“Nice work,” Lachlan said. “Now chuck the rifle.”

Brady’s expression changed. “What? No!”

“Chuck it. That thing won’t help against this guy.”

Brady looked at it in much the same way he looked at his hand earlier. Then he turned and heaved the rifle toward the water, giving it an extra boost of TK so that there wasn’t a hint of an arc in its trajectory.

“Good, now let’s go save Sonnier.” Lachlan took off with Alex close behind.

Brady took one last look at the body. He noticed a pistol strapped to the man’s ankle. He grabbed it and wedged it into his belt at the small of his back.

The three of them worked their way out of the maze and back to the edge of the clearing. They were now halfway between their SUV and the log wall. Lachlan peeked around the corner.

“Do you see him?” Brady said.

“Yeah. He hasn’t moved.”

“Probably waiting for his boys to get back.”

Lachlan eased away from the edge and shook his head. “I don’t know…‌he didn’t seem to care about the first guy that went down.”

Brady looked for himself. “Sonnier’s eyes are open. That’s good.”

Lachlan shook his head again. “I don’t like it. Something’s not right.”

“You think he’s using the old man as bait?”

“Maybe.”

“So what do we do?”

Alex watched Lachlan. His eyes were closed and his head was down. The ends of his blond hair were dark with sweat. “We could try to flank him. Run back through the shipping containers all the way to the water. Then cut over and surprise him.”

Brady’s eyes lit up. “I like it.”

“I do, too,” Alex said. “I’ll get some more diamonds.” He started to open his hand.

“No.” Lachlan grabbed Alex’s wrist. “He’ll see it. It’ll give us away.”

Alex slowly made a fist. “Sorry.”

“And I need you to stay here. Let Brady and I handle this.”

“But I can help.”

“I know.”

“You need me.”

“Probably. But it’s not worth the risk. You’re too valuable.” Lachlan saw that Alex was about to speak again. “This isn’t up for discussion, Alex. Stay put.”

Alex turned to Brady for support, but the older student quickly looked away.

“The police should be on the way. If something goes wrong, stay hidden until they arrive.” And with that, Lachlan and Brady ran into the shadows.

Alex checked his watch. They had only been gone a few minutes. He stood and peeked around the corner again. The professor still hovered there in his captor’s shadow, his head held at such an angle that he looked like a hanged man dangling at the end of his rope. Roka seemed to be staring at something either on the ship or beyond it. Alex started to turn away when he noticed something missing…

He snapped around just in time to be face-to-face with the skull mask, the fabric frayed and ragged and slick with blood around his exposed nasal cavity. The man breathed heavily through his mouth and yet little bubbles of blood could be seen popping within that dark red void in the center of his face. He pistol-whipped Alex across the jaw.

The pain was unlike anything he had ever felt, and as the shockwaves ripped through his body, his vision went white and his ears started ringing and his legs began wobbling and then he crumpled to the ground and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. The back of his head slammed into the concrete and the taste of blood filled his mouth. Alex opened his eyes to find the man straddling him and saying something in another language. He dropped to the ground and used his knees to pin Alex’s arms in place.

He screamed. The man was so heavy. Alex tried to kick his legs as if he could squirm away but it was a waste of effort and only served to make the man laugh, every chuckle bringing with it a few drops of blood. When the man saw this, he leaned forward so the blood dripped on Alex’s face.

“Get off me!” Alex wrenched his head around and caught sight of the diamonds. He tried to focus, tried to wrap his mind around just one of them, but the moment he felt one within his grasp, the man’s fist crashed across his jaw and everything went white again.

There was another foreign word and now the man produced a large knife. Alex tried to protect himself but his arms were still pinned and all he could manage were weak slaps across the man’s thighs. He caught another glimpse of the knife and the madman wielding it and he knew then that he was going to die, the acceptance filling him not with panic but something else entirely; his mind flooded with memories of his dad, their dinners together, their jokes together, their golf rounds together, and then thoughts of Eva washed over him and he remembered their first kiss, the way she tasted, the way she smelled, the time he saved her life, the times they sat together on the bench. So many good times. Time. The watch.
She wanted me to wear the watch
. He lifted his hand and glanced at the case. Alex could feel it. All of it. He closed his eyes and instantly his mind shattered the crystal and dove inside and ripped apart the movement into all its separate pieces, hundreds of tiny wheels and pinions which now went bursting out of the case and burrowing into the man’s eye. He dropped the knife and rolled over screaming, blood running between his fingers. Alex drove the shards through the vitreous and into the grey matter beyond and the man’s leg twitched a few times and then all was still.

“Brady, put it down!”

Alex was on all fours spitting blood when he heard the gunshots. He scrambled to his feet and ran out into the open.

Lachlan was the first one he saw. He lay unconscious in the spot where Roka had been standing. His legs were bloody and there were diamonds scattered about.

“Roka, please! Roka, don’t do this!”

Sonnier and Roka were now in the center of the log wall, their shadows long in the crane’s light. The professor was still hovering in Roka’s wake, grunting as he desperately tried to wrench free of his shackles.

“He’s only a boy, Roka!”

Roka paid him no mind. He walked slowly toward Brady, frozen there with his arms outstretched, hands wrapped around the pistol he had stolen. Smoke wafted from its muzzle. Roka stopped and stared at the bullet spinning in the air. He went to touch it and then withdrew his hand and looked at Brady. “After everything you’ve seen tonight, you somehow thought this was the answer?”

Alex stopped, paralyzed. His heart was racing.

Roka stepped closer to Brady. He leaned forward and whispered something in his ear. A tear rolled down Brady’s cheek.

“Please!”

Roka stepped back and motioned with his hand and Brady went sliding on two diagonal lines like a bishop on an oversized chessboard. When he stopped and pivoted Alex saw his eyes and they were full of terror. The bullet was spinning just inches from his forehead.

“Roka, NOOO!”

There was a pink mist and Brady fell soundlessly to the ground.

Sonnier lurched forward, cursing and screaming and spitting, his lips curled and teeth gritted like some junkyard dog straining against his leash. Alex heard nothing, deaf to the outside world as he watched the blood spread across the concrete, gobbling up little bits of wood and rind, a sight at once revolting and infuriating. He felt no urge to vomit, no urge to turn away, the hatred that was now flooding his mind making him impervious to any feelings of sickness. He balled his fists until his fingers were white and his nails dug into his palms. His eyes ignited into blue flames and he looked at the SUV and he flexed his fingers and every diamond and piece of glass darted into the air and with one massive shove he sent them racing for Roka, a cloud of iridescent projectiles a thousand strong. The man in black held up a hand and the barrage began streaming around him like air rushing over the hood of a car. Alex doubled his effort, pushing the diamonds deeper and deeper until finally one burst through the barrier and tore through Roka’s cheek, the blood vivid red against his pale skin. He staggered back.

Alex moved forward and ripped his hands through the air and the metal bindings holding the professor snapped in half. “Now, Sonnier!”

Sonnier rushed for Roka and drew back his massive fist to deliver a killing blow. His hand froze just inches from Roka’s temple.

“Don’t you ever quit?” Roka touched his cheek and looked at his blood fresh on his fingertips. Then, without any fanfare, he produced a knife and brought the blade to Sonnier’s throat.

Alex felt the hand as if it were his own. The knife stopped with a twitch just before drawing blood.

“Impossible,” Roka whispered. He leaned forward and yet his hand did not move.

Alex thrust his palm and Roka tumbled along the ground.

There were sirens and flashing lights and a voice coming through a loudspeaker.

Roka looked into the distance and then at Sonnier and Alex. The blood on his cheek had smeared and was now all over his face. He looked like a vampire. “We’ll finish this later.” He hopped to his feet and bent his knees and flew away.

Alex watched him soar above the wall and over the ship and disappear into the night sky. “I can’t do that,” he said.

“Not yet.”

27 - A Familiar Face

27

A Familiar Face

A pink glow bisected the darkness and began spreading across the horizon, pooling on the underbellies of the distant clouds so they hung there blushing at the sun’s approach. Alex leaned over the railing and spat. He waited to see if any fish would nibble on the bloody phlegm, but they did not. He touched his face. He winced and touched it again.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been standing there. A while. Long enough that he was already starting to feel a sense of numbness to the night’s events. He looked at his watch, now just a strap and the metal case back, and as he fingered the polished rose gold, his first thoughts were not to the man he killed, but to Eva, and to his dad. There was something about that realization that frightened him. Alex looked away and focused again on the horizon.

He tried to remember everything that had happened since Roka escaped, but it was all such a blur. All that was left were fragments. Like the first cop, the one who pulled him aside for questioning. He couldn’t recall anything that was said, but he remembered the way the cop grabbed his upper arm and yanked him away from Sonnier, the way the cop snapped his fingers in front of his face when he caught Alex watching the medics as they loaded Kim into the helicopter. And he remembered the confused and angry look on that cop’s face when the men in the dark suits arrived at the crime scene. How the young one got out of the Mercedes and walked straight for Alex. How he reached in his jacket and pulled his identification and asked the cop to leave. Soon, all the cops were asked to leave. There was some cursing and some yelling and then doors were slammed and lights stopped flashing and all that was left were Sonnier and Alex and the suits. There must have been a dozen, each of them taking pictures and collecting evidence and making notes on their tablets.